I'll Be the One Running Around With the Microphone
by MaeveMonster
Summary: "You look beautiful." He said, "You should come. Then I can show you off to the boys." He grinned evilly. "Alright then I wouldn't want to deprive you would I?" I laughed, "I'll only be a few minutes." "Ok, see you there. I'll be the one running around with the microphone." He joked.


I'll Be the One Running Around With the Microphone

As he took my hand and lead me to the bed my pulse went through the roof. His hand was warm and gentle, but pleasantly rough. I tried to concentrate on keeping my breathing steady and my heart rate down. Anything but what I really wanted to focus on.

He stopped, took my shoulders, and softly spun me around to face him. Then he pushed me down to sit on the bed. He smiled when he saw my face, which I figured was screwed up with nervousness and confusion. His smile was so perfect. All shiny white teeth, perfectly aligned. And the way the right corner of his mouth tilted up slightly higher than the left side.

After what seemed like forever he turned to the dresser on the opposite wall went to the black MAC box on the left hand side of the mirror. It was just big enough to hold all his makeup and body paint, but small enough to fit nicely in one little spot on his dresser. He took a second to look for something in it, rummaging around until he found what he was looking for. Then he turned back to me with a handful of makeup. All black. I could see eyeliner, mascara, lipliner, and even face-paint.

He covered the distance between us in three strides and squatted in front of me to make our eyes level. He stared into my eyes, apparently fascinated. It seemed as if he was searching my soul for something, though for what I did not know.

Without moving his eyes he set the make up on the soft, dried-blood-colored carpet, and moved to a kneeling position. He picked up the eyeliner, and took off the cap. A pencil. He lifted his hands and with one he lightly held the left side of my face. With the other hand he took the eyeliner and started to apply it. The tip was soft, so it didn't take much before he managed a thick black line directly under my eye. He moved to the lid and his other hand moved to hold the top of my head. His hand ruffling my hair. Done with the right eye on to the left, a repeated process.

He pulled away, looked down at the pile of makeup in front of him, picked up the face-paint and a medium-sized paint brush. He dipped the brush into the cup of black paint and lifted it to my eye. The paint was cold and the brush was soft, quite a contrast between his warm, rough hand on the other side of my face. He painted the black on like it was eye shadow over the top of my eyelid. He bit his lip in concentration and his eyebrows tensed.

Finally satisfied, he set the brush down and moved to take a bottle of liquid eye liner. With it, he painted small, graceful lines coming from the eyeliner already on the bottom of my eyes and the paint on the top. He then took some shimmery black eye shadow and applied it on top of the dry paint.

He touched my lip with his index finger, right where my lipring was. I nodded and he swiftly and expertly slid finger inside my mouth and undid the clasp holding it on and pulled it off. Next he picked up lipstick, which I hadn't seen at first, and uncapped it. It was red as blood. I parted my lips and he applied to the top and bottom. I watched his full lips as he worked. His mouth was slightly open as he focused. He licked his lips, tongue brushing over the piercing on his left.

Next he took the lip liner. He slowly, but surely, drew the black along the outside of my lips, hand moving precisely, never making a mistake. He started to fill in the inside. He smiled again as he drew, leaving just enough space on the inside to be able to see the red undercoat.

He put my ring back in for me.

He picked up the black pencil eyeliner again and started on the top middle of my upper lip. He drew a line following the edge of my already black mouth to the right side corner and extended the line slightly on to my cheek. Then he did the same, but following my lower lip instead. He drew the line across my cheek almost to my ear and stopped about an inch short. After going over it a couple times, he drew hatch marks along the line making them crooked and going every which way, thus creating a beautiful fake scar.

The last thing he did was take the face paint and paint, over my cheek bones, an almost triangle-shaped line that extended across the side of my face, behind my hair, to my neck. He lifted my long, straight black hair to the side and continued to paint my neck. The cold paint made me shiver. At least that's what I wanted him to think. His touch was electric and sent little thrills down my spine when he touched me. I smiled for the first time since he began, and upon seeing me smile, he cracked the most perfectly amazing smirk that said he knew exactly what I was thinking. His knuckles brushed my waist as he lifted off my top shirt revealing my spaghetti strapped cami underneath. My stomach flipped at his touch. He proceeded to paint lines and little scars all the way down my arms and neck with the cold, black paint. He used his thumb to smear some of them and not others. He licked his index finger and trailed it across my collar bone, smearing yet another line into perfection.

When he had finally finished with everything he took my hand and helped me off the bed. He guided me by my waist to the mirror across the room and positioned himself behind me with a hand on either of my hips, where he stopped, staring at our reflection.

"Look… We match." Were the first words he spoke since entering the room some hours before. His deep rumbling voice filled and shocked the room that had just been silent.

And he was right. Our makeup and body paint matched almost exactly. Our straight, black hair. Our lip piercings. Our ear piercings. We DID match.

"You are the only one for me." He said low, deep, and true.

I was so lost for words that all I could think to do was turn around and kiss him. I threw myself into him and his arms encircled me protectively. He was warm, strong, safe, yet dangerous. His tongue slid across my lip and found my ring. I felt his press on my lips, cold, hard metal. Just like his music. His hands were on the small of my back and they moved up and down sending small shivers all through my body. Everywhere we touched was electricity. It was addicting. His mouth moved expertly with mine, in perfect harmony, coexistence. I felt his teeth bite my lip softly and I giggled and smiled in the kiss. His mouth moved down my neck and I hoped that the paint was nontoxic because his tongue trailed down to my collarbone and back up to my jaw. I tilted my head back inviting him to kiss everywhere. He buried his face in my hair and breathed in deeply.

"Mmmm, you smell good." He remarked.  
"Yeah, it's called a shower. Soap. Hot water…" I said, breathless.  
"Naked. I know the drill." He smirked as he backed me against the wall.

He braced himself with a forearm on either side of my head as he tilted his face to the side and came in for another kiss. This time more aggressively. The devil for me came out of hiding as he slid his hands under my tank and stroked my stomach with his thumps. He shoved his tongue inside my mouth dueling with mine before exiting to stroke my lip, only to come back again. We could have stayed there for hours, had he not had a gig that night. The tour manager knocked on his closed door and called in.

"You're on in ten,"

He sighed into my neck and after a few seconds he took a step back, evaluating me.

"You're a mess," he said.  
I walked over to the mirror. That was an understatement. I had looked perfect before the kiss, but now My lips were smeared all over my face and my body paint was smeared. Not in the good way. He pointed to the bathroom that connected to his hotel room.

"You can shower if you want. I have to go." He said

"Ok. Thank you." I said as he started towards the door. "Wait! What about you….?"

He turned to face me and I looked him up and down. All six feet two inches and not even a smudge out of place. He never ceases to amaze me.

"You coming to the show?" he asked.

"I have to shower remember?" I replied.

"I was only joking before. You look beautiful." He said, "You should come. Then I can show you off to the boys." He grinned evilly.

"Alright then I wouldn't want to deprive you would I?" I laughed, "I'll only be a few minutes."

"Ok, see you there. I'll be the one running around with a microphone." He joked.

"I'll make sure to find you." I said, smiling as he left and closed the door.

I turned to the mirror and got to work. It wouldn't be as good as his, but it'll look better than it does now.

I couldn't wait for tonight.


End file.
